A Nonsense Poem

A Nonsense Poem Without  Rhyme and Reason

A random light,
a purple spray
on trees swaying in the dark.
A spruced up lane
showing the way
to a night that loses the barbs
under a moon,
speechless, dumb.
A random evening
beginning in a random thought,
a random streetlight burning bright
like a tiger' eye in the dark.
A lost letter from the alphabets
like the cat I lost which never came back.
 In a random mood,
I speak of things with no consequence.
On some other random night I may come
to the random street
in search of the cat I lost
hoping that if I find the lost alphabet,
I may randomly find the lost cat.

#Spruce 🌲 #Streetlight #Evening #Random #NoFilter #RussianUniverse

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 The dawn, hiding in a mist, rolling across the sky and the sea,

and landing on the mountain crests,

softly enters human abodes.

One by one, the stragglers of the night

put out the lights that burnt through the hours of midnight,

shining mysteriously on solitudes in the deserts,

and drawing a curtain on the invisible God

who was awake at night to the prayers of the man.

02-02-25

The first task of a man who wants to be a poet is to study his own self-awareness, in its entirety; he seeks out his soul, he inspects it, he tests it, he learns it. As soon as he knows it, he must cultivate it. [...]

I say that one must be a Seer , make oneself a Visionary.

The Poet makes himself a seer by a long, prodigious, and rational disorganization of all the senses. All the forms of love, of suffering, of madness, he searches himself, he exhausts all the poisons in himself, keeping only their quintessences. Unspeakable torment for which he needs the greatest faith, a superhuman strength, and he becomes, above all others, the great invalid, the great criminal, the great accursed, - and the Supreme Scientist! For he

reaches the unknown ! Because he has cultivated his soul, already rich, more than anyone else! He reaches the unknown, and if demented, he ends up by losing the meaning of his visions, he will at least have seen them!